Dawn of Darkness
by Kingsdaughter613
Summary: "I was one of many. We were servants of the dark side… Sith Lords, we called ourselves." The first to do so. Once they were Jedi. Once they were great. Once...before they fell. This is the story of the children who would fight a battle that would last a thousand years and begin a war that would last an eternity. The story of Jen'Jidai.


STAR

WARS

Jen'Jidai

Prologue:

He watched the youth without really watching, violet eyes weary. So many had come, so many. All had failed and he had never had patience for failure. But that was not true. He had had patience once, had he not? He thought he had, but it had been so long ago that he could not recall. Even his name was but a mere shadow, a remnant of greatness, hidden in the dark recesses of the wraith's mind.

Yet he watched the youth. The boy (man? But he was so young, at least compared to the wraith.) glowed with power. To the unseen watcher the youth seemed to shine as though the heart of the Force itself was contained within the young man's being. For a moment the wraith wondered, before shoving hope aside. He had learned not to hope long ago. His masters (_No, not his. He seemed to see them, harsh and unforgiving, but not his. His master was kind – or so he seemed to recall_.) had taught him well.

The youth was approaching the central chamber now. That was a surprise, if a pleasant one. It had been sometime since one worthy of finding the chamber had entered. But this meant nothing. There had been others – all failures. With practiced ease the wraith shoved down any trace of hope. He had been failed too many times already. Would his children (_children? Yes, he had had children. Powerful ones, but they had failed him badly. But was the failure theirs – or his? If only he could remember._) ever succeed in releasing him?

The youth had passed the metal guardians and was entering the tomb. His tomb, and perhaps the youth's as well. Odd that they called it his tomb – it was his prison, but the body in the coffin was not his. (_Or so whatever weak fragments remained of his memory __claimed. He had hidden his body here but was not certain it was dead. If he was dead. The only certainty was imprisonment._)

Now the youth was opening the tomb, seeking the blade resting there. It seemed to the wraith now that he had seen this boy before. He had been different then – the boy, not the wraith – but it was the same one. The youth had not sought the blade the last time. He had been seeking knowledge. He had had a friend ( _an apprentice?_ ) with him last time, the wraith recalled dimly. The friend was not here now. (_He had felt sorry for the friend, not so much for the youth. The youth had chosen his path, the friend had chosen to trust and follow_.) But the boy was lifting the blades now and it was time for the wraith to play his scripted part. For such was the will of the Bios – or was it the Force? Did it matter? It had been so long…

"So long. So long in the cold, in the dark." It seemed to him that the boy exuded light, hidden beneath a thin veneer of shadow. A Sith would not hide his light if he followed that way and so – "A Jedi? Here? Why have you come?" He knew of course. They only entered for one reason; all fools, seeking his cursed blade. That blade had imprisoned him here. Perhaps this youth could use it to set him free. He would have to or the wraith would kill him… or perhaps the boy would kill the wraith. That might be preferable – but it would not last. It never did. Always his blade and body summoned him back from the chaos beyond.

The youth stared at him, shock written across his features. It had not been so before. Last time the boy had worn a mask and had known what he sought. Sought _him_ for his knowledge and wisdom. Now the youth studied him, dark eyes wary. "Are you… Ajunta Pall?"

The wraith shuddered, the name acting as bell in the morning awakening him from his stupor. "_I… had a name, once." _ The boy had just said it, had he not? "_Ajunta Pall. Yes, that was my name."_ It had been once, all those years ago. He remembered now, in that odd manner that one recalls a dream. "_I was one of many. We were servants of the dark side… Sith Lords, we called ourselves." _Not true Sith. Those were the species he had enslaved. He had been proud then, certain of his power, his righteousness. "_ So proud." _No more. "_ In the end we were not so proud." _No, not so proud. Broken and betrayed, yes, that was what they were. He remembered that now._ "We hid… hid from those we had betrayed." _ Running. Yes, they had run, hiding from the Jedi. The Jedi who had spared them, and how had they repaid the kindness?_ "We fell… and I knew it would be so." _For how could it not be? They had betrayed themselves to ruin. He remembered that now, remembered so much he had forgotten. Had wanted to forget. But he remembered now. Remembered what they had been, what he had been.

Jen'Jidai.

AUthor's Note: I am so bad. I should not be writing this now... I should be finishing my HP story and my other Star Wars one first. But this plot bunny caught my mind and just won't let me go. So this is the story of Ajunta Pall and his Jen'Jidai. I noticed that there were none, not in SW cannon and not on this site. The Exiles were so important but no one ever talks about them... So I've decided to do so. This is the first story solely focused on the Jen'Jidai on this site! Kind of crazy when you think about the effect these twelve people had. There are several parts to this story and this particular one doesn't really involve Luke much. He will feature in some later parts though... Let me know what you think!

Oh, sorry for the rambling nature of this. Ajunta is not the most coherent of narrators (as anyone who's played his quest in KotOR knows). He gets better.


End file.
